


Tribulation

by micehell



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU (Dilvish the Damned sort of fusion), Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-21
Updated: 2007-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micehell/pseuds/micehell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There're still a lot of people who were perfectly happy to leave John in Hell, and Rodney's not exactly the world's most popular guy, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tribulation

**Author's Note:**

> Really loosely based on Zelazny's _Dilvish The Damned_ series.

John scrambles over the tall gate, his bad knee giving a twinge as he lands hard on the other side, but he's up and running before anyone has a chance to spot him. He has Rodney strapped to his back, and he gives him a little pat, whispering, "Almost there, and then you can do your thing."

The hatch to the bunker yields easily, unlocked, and it makes John nervous, especially when a cautious scout around doesn't turn up any guards. But he's come this far, and he's always been a little too reckless for his own good. Even all those years in Hell haven't quite cured him of that. He does ask Rodney, "Are you reading anything?"

Rodney just beeps at him in reply, obviously still sore about being put in standby mode, but John takes that as a no anyway.

The schematics Rodney had hacked of the complex put Kolya's personal quarters deep at the heart of the bunker, and John heads right, slipping into the stairwell without a sound. There's almost no light and the steps aren't uniform, and it's taking far longer to get down them than he'd planned, but it would be too embarrassing to die from breaking his own foolish neck, so he bites back the impatience.

Ten stories down and twenty minutes later, and he's at the juncture of two large metal doors, no lock, handle, or control panel in sight. John squats down, taking Rodney off his back, opening his case up and taking him off standby. "Okay, time to do your thing."

Rodney's image shivers for a moment as his system warms up, but then he's scowling at John, his face delivering the clear message that John's going to be sleeping alone for a quite a while, and that he'll be lucky if that's all that happens. "I don't like being put on standby. The power management unit Carter gave me in this thing is crappy, and it doesn't integrate well with the rest of the system."

"Yeah, I remember the time you crashed."

Rodney huffs, the sound making his speakers buzz. "I didn't crash. I simply... had a momentary operating issue."

John just smiles. "Po-tay-toe, Po-tah-toe. And we're on the clock here, so could you maybe do your magic so we can get a move on."

He hears Rodney muttering, something that might be _magic_ and _sufficiently advanced_ , but there's also a status bar running in the corner of his screen, showing that Rodney's processing. The status bar flashes and then disappears, and the metal doors give a low groan, slowly rolling apart.

John looks around, but there doesn't appear to be anyone there, which is suspicious in itself, and Rodney's mouth is quirked down, the wallpaper behind him taking on the yellowish-green that means he's worried. He looks at John. "Not to downplay my genius or anything, because it is impressive, but that was too easy."

It was too easy, and it's pretty obviously a trap, which means that someone in the colony betrayed them, but they hadn't really trusted anyone there, anyway, so they'd already planned for this. "We're still going."

Rodney's wringing his virtual hands, but he agrees. "We're going. Just... well, just be careful. My circuits are pretty delicate, and it took me forever to repair the damage from last time."

"How many times do I have to say this, Rodney, that wasn't my fault. I was bleeding if you recall, and your case slipped."

"Yes, well just don't do it again."

John's trying to see into the poorly lit space beyond the doors, looking for the trap, but there's nothing for it but to go on. He picks Rodney up, clicking his screen closed but carefully not putting him in standby. He hooks the laptop to his belt this time for quicker access, but with his hands still free to grab the gun in his holster. Mind on the puzzle before him, he asks, "Don't do what, drop you or bleed?"

But Rodney's never going to think that's funny, and John remembers his frantic voice calling for John from where he'd landed, and how his whole screen had gone green and gray when he'd seen the blood. John takes another cautious step forward, trying to think of something to say that won't sound like an apology, but kind of is one, too, and almost falls when he finds only empty space with his foot. "What the hell?"

Opening Rodney's screen again, he uses the light from it to try to see what's in front of him, or rather what isn't there, but the light's too dim to show more than a couple of feet down. He asks, "Can you get any readings on how deep and wide that is?"

Before Rodney can answer, he doesn't need to because there's harsh, actinic light washing over them, clearly showing the twenty-foot chasm that stretches between them and the door at the other side. The sound of footsteps behind them, voices coming nearer, show them where the trap is sprung.

There's no going back, and there's no going forward, the chasm far too deep, the bottom barely visible even in the bright light overhead. Which doesn't leave John with a lot of choices. He points Rodney at the door they'd just come through, saying, "Close it."

"Close it? There's no way across. If we close the door, we'll simply be trapped here until someone else opens it."

"Yeah, so close it, and try to make sure that no one else can open if for a while. I need time to think."

The doors are already closing, but Rodney's still complaining. "I don't think even I can keep the doors closed long enough for _you_ to think."

John tunes him out, considering their options, which are all bad. This might teach him to be more careful, if they live long enough, anyway. He looks at the door opposite, and wonders why anyone would put a big, uncrossable hole in the middle of their bunker. Kolya's many things, but randomly crazy he's not, so that means the hole is definitely crossable, John just has to figure out how.

It's hard to see at first, because it just looks like discolored concrete, but John eventually makes out the bridge that's inset into the wall on the opposite side of the room. He turns back to the controls on their side, but he doesn't see anything labeled _Extend Bridge_ , or even _Open Sesame_. "Rodney, there's a bridge over on the other side. Can you spot the control for it."

"Yes."

John's glad something is finally going their way. "Well, where is it?"

"Over where the bridge is, of course. Why would someone put in a security feature that could be opened by the people they're trying to keep out? What, did you think this was going to be like _Star Wars_ , and we'd just shoot the controls out on this side and then swing on over?"

John doesn't admit to it, but Rodney knows him pretty well, and John's always had a weakness for that movie. "Okay already, so no swinging over. Can you operate the controls from over here?"

Rodney's already shaking his head. "There's too much interference in here. All this concrete, and whatever the hell Kolya's supposed scientists are up to. I'd have to be closer."

So much for Plan B, John thinks. And Plan C is apparently to get captured and shot, because there's a lot of noise coming from the door behind them, and while Rodney's good, it won't hold forever.

Rodney's apparently still on the first plan, though. "You and your movies. Next thing you'll be talking about flux capacitors again. One day, if we get out of this, you'll have to learn that life isn't like the movies--" Rodney cuts himself off, virtual fingers snapping quickly as he thinks. "Wait, wait, maybe it is." A video clip streams across Rodney's screen for a second, R2D2 flying across the conveyor belts in _Attack of the Clones_. "Horrible movie, mind you, but it had its moments."

He doesn't understand why the clip is relevant, and they really don't have time for it, but John can't help but ask, "Ewan McGregor chained to the big, phallic pillar?"

Rodney tries to look innocent, but that scene flashes across his screen before he can stop it, and there are two bright spots of embarrassment on his cheeks. "Shut up."

John grins. It wasn't like he didn't like that scene, too, but still, "You can fly?"

He has a horrible _Peter Pan_ moment, and he's afraid Rodney will be able to sense it somehow, further cementing his opinion about John and movies, but Rodney just says, "Carter loaded some extra tricks in me, and I think one of them might have been levitation. At least I think that's what she said. Maybe."

"She didn't tell you which features she put in?"

John hadn't thought it was possible, but Rodney looks even more embarrassed, his whole face flushed now. When the video clip plays this time, it's obviously something from Rodney's memory, an attractive blonde's face framed by his screen as she leans over it, obviously typing. She's saying something, but it fades to a staticky hiss as Rodney's perspective moves downward, everything going out of focus but her breasts. The clip ends, and when Rodney reappears, John flicks his head, ignoring the squawked, "No fingerprints on the screen!"

"Of all the times you have to think with your dick, you had to choose to do it when you didn't even have one."

Rodney's face looks chagrinned, or as much so as he ever gets. "Yeah, I disgust myself sometimes." He pauses, and then says, "Still, I'm pretty sure I can fly. It's just that I'm not sure..."

John grimaces, seeing where this is going. "You're not sure you can carry me."

But there's a groaning sound of metal straining behind them, and the door won't hold out against whatever they're doing to it forever, so they don't really have a choice. John grips Rodney's keyboard with desperate fingers. "Do it."

Sometimes Rodney's too slow to act, his brain going over every possible outcome he can think of -- and he can think of a lot -- before he moves, but this time John's barely got hold before Rodney becomes the Little Laptop That Could, pulling John up into the air, his face screwed up in concentration. They drop like lead over the edge, but John's just begun to panic when Rodney's pulls up again, moving slowly but surely across the gap, complaining all the way about how much John weighs considering how little of him there is.

Rodney's still smugly smiling when he opens the door on the other side, and they find themselves face to face with twenty of Kolya's men.

John goes down fighting, but three of them sit on him, hard knees in his back as they twist his arms behind him, fasten the cuffs on tight. He picks up more bruises as they shove him down the halls, into what's obviously an office, though it's empty at the moment. For all that, they're strangely gentle with Rodney, laying him down on the desk with soft, shaking hands before they scuttle back towards the door. Two stand guard on the inside, but John's sure there's more out in the hall.

Rodney's looking John over, obviously searching for bloody injuries, but John had sort of promised not to do that again, and there's only bruises. He's still not sure why there aren't more in the way of bullet holes and death, but he's happy enough about the lack at the moment.

His mouth twisted in disapproval, Rodney says, "Well this is another fine mess you've gotten me into."

John's about to defend himself, but the fearful whispers coming from the guards makes him stop. Their faces are staring at Rodney, and one of them makes the warding gesture commonly used for demons. John can't help but laugh when Rodney huffs at them. "I'm not a demon, you idiots."

He's not one, but John can't help but say, "That's not what Zalenka told me. He says that everyone thought so even before you went to Hell."

Rodney's lips thin, eyes promising dire consequences, and John figures he'll be lucky if he ever gets sex again, forget tonight. Of course, John figures he'll be lucky if he's alive to have sex tonight, so tweaking Rodney was mostly worth it.

"It would be what they deserved if I was a demon. Oh, stop looking at me like that, you morons. If I had the ability to send you to Hell, trust me, you'd already be there. But instead, I'm just a humble genius."

John's still laughing when Kolya comes in, but it dies quickly. He hides his anger, though, knowing it will just make the asshole happy to see it. "Long time no see, Kolya. How are things?"

He's smiling, not a care in the world, and, really, considering it's his guards at the door, and John doesn't even have his knife anymore, it's not exactly like Kolya's hurting here. "Quiet is how things are. Strangely, my life has been so much simpler these last few years. No one interfering in my plans. No one killing my men."

Rodney's livid, and he keeps starting sentences he can't finish, apparently amazed by Kolya's chutzpah in blaming John for protecting himself, but Kolya cuts him off by three quick keystrokes. Control, alt, delete, a quick wave of his hands to the guards, and John's alone in the office with Kolya.

For the first time since he entered the bunker, John's truly afraid. He hadn't counted on Rodney getting shut down, hadn't counted on having to face Kolya alone. He tries to comfort himself with the fact that at least he's not tied down to a table this time, but it's not really helping, and he's sure his flippant grin isn't hiding anything. Kolya's like a shark, scenting his fear in the water, and he's smiling as he steps closer, following John back across the room when he instinctively tries to keep some space between them. It's only three steps before the wall's at his back, though, and he has nowhere to go when Kolya strokes a finger along the circle of scars on John's neck, each one uniform in size and evenly spaced, the only thing left of Hathor's collar. He bites the inside of his lip, tasting blood, to hold back the shudder that wants to run through him.

Kolya's eyes are dark, filled with hate that's crossed over into obsession. "She told me you were hard to control. Intractable. She told me all the things they did to try to correct that." He pauses, his hand spanning the scars, John's neck. "How much they enjoyed it."

John won't flinch from the touch, knowing it's what Kolya wants, but he imagines breaking every bone in that hand, holding the thought close to help keep him still.

Kolya shrugs, stepping back, but John can see the temper flare from the lack of reaction, and he smirks, adding fuel to the fire. It had always been an effective technique with his COs, and he's glad to see it works just as well here.

Maybe a little too well, because Kolya's marking off familiar sigils on the floor, and he's the one smirking when he says, "Maybe she'll send me video this time. I'd like that."

He raises his hands high, fingers spread, still very much the drama queen. "You really should have stayed hidden, Sheppard. I might have left you alone." And then he's chanting out John's exile, his ticket to Hell, using the old language that no one there bothers with anymore. Hathor always used to laugh at how hopelessly out of date Kolya was. Not that it stopped her from taking John when Kolya called the first time. It won't stop her now, either.

John watches it all, his face carefully blank, but inside he's screaming, crying, calling for his mother, who had never been there even when she was alive, but John doesn't care, because all he knows is he can't go back. He won't.

Kolya's drawing up to his big finish. He's all dramatic flourishes and grand gestures, too caught up in his performance to pay attention when John eases forward, to the side, his bound hands reaching back for the man who helped save him from Hell the first time. Granted, Rodney hadn't been a laptop then, and John hadn't had to wait for him to boot up, either, but Rodney's always been faster than anyone else, and Kolya's still chanting when John steps back, watching as Rodney's face grows, filling the screen, moving past it, until he's standing in front of John, in front of Kolya, black light like liquid haloed around him, and Kolya screams as the last word of his chant drips from his mouth. The sound is pulled into the light, drowns in it, so that nothing comes from Kolya's wide-stretched mouth, his fear made silent when he follows it into the darkness.

His booted feet are the last thing through before the light flares into red and disappears, leaving only Rodney behind. With his receding hairline, his slightly pudgy frame, his innocuous features, Rodney's harmless looking, but he has the most dangerous mind John's ever known, full of dark secrets that could take out half the world. Or maybe even the five/sixth that Rodney's always claimed. His smile's sweet though, as he smacks his hands together, wiping the whole situation away with the gesture. "I think that went well, don't you? Okay, not _exactly_ according to plan, but isn't it you who said that no plan survives contact with the enemy?"

"That was Moltke the Elder, Rodney. Or Dylan Hunt from _Andromeda_ , take your pick."

Rodney waves the trivial details off. "Well anyway, Hathor can finally get Kolya up to date on the language, just like she always wanted, and you and I will never have to see him again. Really, a win for everyone. Well, except for Kolya, but I don't really seem to care."

John didn't care either, seeing as that had been the whole point of their effort. "No, I'm good. But next time you get to be the bait."

Rodney details exactly why John, who's apparently just the muscle of the operation, should always be the bait as they made their way out, only stopping when they have to run for their lives after Rodney sets the bunker's generators to overload.

Standing on the hillside overlooking what used to be a secret bunker -- but was now more in the way of a very large hole in the ground, dust and smoke curling slowly out of it -- Rodney's face grows serious. "You escaped. With my help, of course, but Kolya..." he trails off, but John knows if anyone would be likely to find complementary souls in Hell it would be Kolya.

"Yeah," is all John replies. He knows it's not over. Even without Kolya, they're not exactly safe. There're still a lot of people who were perfectly happy to leave John in Hell, and Rodney's not exactly the world's most popular guy, either. They'll probably have to spend the rest of their lives being careful. But for right now, it's enough.

John sets up camp for the night, happy that Rodney's stayed in human form, because he can always use an extra pair of hands. He can always use Rodney's company, too. It takes so much out of Rodney to keep the form, but it's worth it, especially when his hands find John's, tracing over his palms, past the crisscrossing scars on his fingers, the wide bands of them on his wrists, but he pays no more attention to the scars than he does the unmarked flesh, moving up John's arms, down his chest, pushing his shirt up to expose nipples already hard with excitement. John loves him for ignoring the marks Hell left on him, the ones his life before did, loves him for his ability to make John forget caution for the moment, to make him feel _safe_ , and it was years and years before Rodney, before Hell, the last time John felt that.

He let's Rodney's fingers map all of him, inside and out. It's been too long since they've had more than stolen moments, the rushed brush of lips and hands, and it hurts when Rodney pushes in, but John wraps his arms and legs tight around Rodney, holding him in place, not letting him go. He's right where John needs him, and as Rodney slowly starts to move, John forgets about everyone and everything that came before this, forgets everything but Rodney, thick and hard and needful, hands clutching John like he's afraid he'll disappear, forgets everything but the weight on him, anchoring him to the world, and the man in him, making him fly. The sound of Rodney's choked cry as he comes is all John needs to follow him.

The next morning they're heading down a nearly deserted highway, miles of nothing all around. The problem with raiding super-secret bunkers was they tended to be far away from everything else, and the explosion had swallowed the bike they'd rode in on. Rodney's voice is still perfectly audible even through the pack John's carrying him in, and John has to laugh at the running diatribe Rodney has going against the o/s Carter loaded him with. He stops when he hears a car approaching from behind them, hand going to his holster instinctively. It's a battered old pickup that's seen better decades, but it's a ride, and John decides to push their luck, sticking out his thumb as it slowly rolls by them, giving his best smile. He's thinks it's a wash at first, but then the truck slows, pulling over up ahead. A woman leans out of the window, her face friendly, but the eyes cautiously sizing them up before she says, "Would you like a ride?"

John's pretty sure the innuendo he can hear in her voice is a test. The woman's young, pretty in an exotic way, and there's a nice curve of breast along the window of the truck as she leans out. And though the arm he sees is nicely defined, strength in the long line of muscle, she's still small, noticeably short even sitting in the truck. Stopping to pick up a strange man in such a deserted place means she's either supremely confident in her ability to defend herself, or she's part of a trap. But John shrugs and says, "Sure. A ride sounds great," because, hey, it's nearly fifty miles to the next town, and John's pretty confident in his abilities, too.

He climbs in the cab, holding out a hand to shake, which she takes awkwardly, as if unfamiliar with the gesture, but she seems to relax when he settles back in the seat, making sure his hands are visible and his movements slow. He has her laughing before the first mile's even passed.

She overhears Rodney's hissed "Kirk!", meant for John's ears only, but she takes Rodney in stride, only a slight cant to her brow, a slight tilt of her head, giving any clue to how odd she finds the whole situation. Good manners win out over surprise, though, and she smiles at both of them as she says, "My name is Teyla. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Watching the miles of road go by that he doesn't have to walk, Rodney secure on his lap, a pretty woman at his side who just might have the potential to be a friend, and all John can do is smile his own pleasure at the meeting, his horizon wide open.

/story


End file.
